Yesterday, I did NOT write down a huge list of housework chores that needed done and then I did NOT decided partway through completing the list that I wanted to reupholster my kitchen chairs. I did NOT work myself into exhaustion trying to do a ton of housework and a big project at the same time. NOT at all. NOT me.
This was NOT at all like the same time last year when I also did NOT decide to reupholster the kitchen chairs at the last minute.
Last summer, I did NOT agree to co-host a baby shower with my sister for a very young first time mother. My sister and I did NOT both assume that the other one was taking car of the guest list and the invitations. We did NOT discover a week before the shower that neither of us had actually invited anyone. We did NOT keep that little oversight completely secret from the guest of honor. We then did NOT both totally over-invite to make up for this lapse, and then did NOT have more guests attending than I could possibly squeeze into my little living room.
The morning of the party, I did NOT drag my kitchen chairs into the living room to make up for the one loveseat and two small arm chairs that were the sole extent of my furniture. I did NOT stare at them in disgust, realizing for the first time how completely old and stained their fabric seats were. I did NOT, repeat NOT, leave immediately for the fabric store. I did NOT drag my sweet and innocent little girl along with me as a co-conspirator.
At the fabric store, I did NOT fall in love with the super-expensive, totally impractical, oriental silk like fabric. I did NOT have to rely on the voice of an eleven year old child to be the voice of reason talking me into the very affordable wipe-off vinyl fabric.
I did NOT get back home, flip all my chairs on their side, and I did NOT crazily take a phillips-head screwdriver to their bases. I did NOT punch out all six chair pads and leave them strewn all over two rooms of the house. This process did NOT produce enough crumbs to feed a starving person.
I certainly did NOT at that point grab the wood cleaner to begin scrubbing down the chair legs and backs.
I was NOT still in the middle of this process when my first guest arrived. She was NOT a family member who had come over early to help because she knew what a complete scatter-brain I was and knew I would need someone sane to keep things together. (She did NOT get there before my sister, who was at a niche grocery store picking up food items I had never heard of and can't remember for the life of me.) She also was NOT pregnant herself and was NOT super-excited about helping out with a baby shower. Walking into my house which looked like Freddy Krueger Does Chairs was NOT like a child waking up on Christmas morning to pieces of a disassembled bike all over the livring room.
Frantically trying to staple squares of vinyl fabric around the not quite square chair pads as the clock ticked down to time for the shower was NOT the first time I had ever used a staple gun. The staple gun did NOT run out of staples on the third chair pad. The Jedi had NOT left the house to run his own errands for the morning. I was NOT all alone with an empty staple gun, a disappointed pregnant woman, and six chairs in twelve pieces.
I did NOT raid the Jedi's workbench for the second time that morning.
I did NOT realize that even after I had managed to wrap and staple new fabric around the chair pads, that I couldn't actually screw the pads back on the chairs. I did NOT consider running back to the Jedi's workbench for a roll of duct tape. I certainly did NOT ask the pregnant woman to sit on the chairs while I tried to screw the pad back in from underneath.
That is NOT exactly what we were doing when the Jedi walked back in the door. I certainly did NOT have to throw myself on the Jedi's mercy to get my chairs put back together while I cleaned up the massive mess of crumbs.